


Once Upon A Midnight's Dream

by RosettaStarlight



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon goes to die in a ditch, Faerie Magic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Isle of the Lost (Disney), Isle of the Lost (Disney) is a Terrible Place, Multi, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Other, Politics, United States of Auradon (Disney) Is Not Perfect, characters from the second movie make appearances, some heroes are villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-01-26 13:04:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosettaStarlight/pseuds/RosettaStarlight
Summary: When Ben decided his proclamation, his father called a council of the kingdoms to decide if the program should go through. Almost every one of them shoot him down. Furious and determined to make them see why it is so important to get the Children of the Isle off, he sneaks pass the barrier to blend in and see for himself what the Isle is like.But trapped on an island where each villain despises him and his family, will he survive?
Relationships: Ben/Mal (Disney: Descendants), Evie & Jay & Mal & Carlos de Vil
Comments: 17
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

_How hard could it be?_ Was his initial, _very_ naive thought. Then, succeeding it once _common sense_ knocked him upside the head: _Very, very hard_.

His gray-blue gaze sidled over to one of the two floor to ceiling windows in his spacious - but cluttered- room, and he let out a muffled sigh as he caught sight of the golden, _almost _transparent dome of magic encircling the Isle, an island in the middle of the ocean rid of magic that made up the prison for the Villains who had done wrong against the _Heroes_ of Auradon, as well as their children. The young prince let his eyes graze over the whole of his kingdom, the barrier included-the Isle _was_ a part of his kingdom, regardless of the people who lived there. _They_ were still his people, too, regardless of what they'd done.

It made no sense what the _children _of these villains had done. How would have they have harmed them? _Their parents were bad people, Ben. You can't tell what they might grow up to be._ That was the answer his parents gave him when they took away his friend, Tiberius, once they found out who his father was. He and Ben had been _six_. What damage exactly would he have been able to do?

Was that what they did with the others? Lock them away with their parents out of fear of what they _could_ be with their blood, their genetics?

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists harshly. Everyone seemed to agree that was right. It didn't _feel_ right.

But they were the _heroes._ They were never wrong. If they said it was right, it was right. Right?

Except not _all_ of them agreed. At the last few meetings of the kingdoms to discuss the issues of the Isle, his father had let Ben attend. It was only proper as he was the next king of Auradon. His father had thought Ben wouldn't pay that much attention since at the age he was when he first began attending, most children had the attention span of concussed hummingbirds. But Ben had done his absolute best to listen. Because if his father said it was important, it had to be.

Within the past few meetings over the last few years, Ben had heard them discuss issues about clean water sources, medicine and hospitals, education systems. And he heard every single one met with indifference and spite. There were a few that voted against that way of thinking, those that voted _for_ proper resolutions to those issues. And his father's solution to _that _was to "forget" to send them invites to such meetings, even if it never worked.

He thought Ben didn't notice.

He did. Peeking into his study in the middle of the night, jumping and standing on the tips of his toes to be able to see over the podium where his father stood when Ben was a child. Ben may be naive. But certainly not stupid.

A sharp turn of his head by the tailor made him turn forward once more. It took all of his willpower not to return his glance to his window as thoughts trailed once more to the almost-proclamation permanently stuck in his head like an annoying song. Desperate to keep his eyes trained on something other than the Isle of the Lost—the official title for it—he blinked at the open balcony where he saw his parents approaching

_Children of the Isle. The Lost. The Forgotten. People like us, but not._

"How is it possible that you're going to be crowned King next month?" Ben's meandering gaze turned towards his broad-shouldered father, King Adam, nicknamed Beast by neighboring kingdoms, and his petite mother, Queen Belle. His trademark, blinding bright white smile bloomed across his face. "You're just a baby."

"He's turning sixteen soon, dear," Ben's mother chimed in, and although her voice was much gentler and serene than his father's booming timbre, it was still as authoritative.

"Hey, pops," Ben greeted his father and tugged uncomfortably at the sleeves of his jacket, which caused the tailor to click his tongue in a disapproving way, and Belle picked up a coat from the foosball table and brushed off the inconceivable layer of dust on it.

"Sixteen? That's far too young to be crowned king. I didn't make a good decision until I was at least...forty-two." Belle rolled her eyes and her husband, initiating a chuckle from their son.

"You decided to marry me at twenty eight."

"Well, it was either you or the teapot." Ben laughed loudly when his father shot him a wink, and he recalled the kind face of the stoutly woman who now taught a cooking elective at another one of Auradon's prestigious schools. Belle shook her head, feigning annoyance. As silence fell upon the room, Ben drew his shoulders up, trying to push down the anxiety that had settled in the pit of his stomach, and he took a breath, preparing himself.

"Mom, Dad," Ben began, cautious as he tested the waters, and took a step forward, but the tailor stopped him, tugging on the hem of his pants leg, beckoning him to stay on the pedestal. "I've chosen my first official proclamation." Belle drew in a sharp breath, and exchanged a proud glance with Adam. _Here goes nothing._

"I've decided that the children of the Isle of the Lost should be given a chance...to come and live with us, here in Auradon." The coat that Belle had been holding fell out her limp hand onto the cluttered floor as she let out a slight whimper, and Adam was paralyzed, mouth open in shock. Stepping forward quickly, too abruptly for the tailor to hold him back, Ben folded his hands behind his back, trying his best to look as official as possible. "Every time I look out there, I feel like they're being abandoned."

Adam pulled his hand out of his pocket slowly, dropping his fatherly demeanor and pointing out the window, a strange combination of placidity and fury creasing his forehead. "Ben, listen to me now, and listen to me well. I know you hadn't been born yet, but haven't you learned enough about the history of the kingdoms to reali—"

"I know that, Dad! I've heard the stories, seen the aftermath, felt the people's sorrow." He drew in another deep breath. "But the villains' children are innocent! And besides." Ben paused, feeling a bit sheepish. "I've been researching their parents and I think I know who to pick.

"Have you now?" King Adam growled, voice alarmingly low, and Ben flinched back, away from his father's commanding aura of power.

Queen Belle rested a comforting hand on Adam's arm. "I gave you a second chance," she murmured, and blinked at Ben. "Who are their parents?" Ben couldn't ignore the hint of disappointment in his mother's voice, and he had to fight back the urge to give up, to make another proclamation, one less life threatening than the one he had just suggested.

"Cruella di Vil, Jafar, Evil Queen..." Ben steadied himself, for he knew how his parents would react to the last name. "And Maleficent." The tailor gasped and stumbled back before quickly bowing and scurrying out the room.

"Son," King Adam began, and Ben could hear him trying to keep his _beastly_ temper under control. "What has gotten into you?" Ben bowed his head. _I knew this wouldn't work._

"Ben, these people took everything from us, and we had to fight to get it back. Who's to say the villain's kids destroy everything we have now?"

"I'm sorry-"

"Apologizing won't make things right!" Rage boiled through Ben's veins. He was going to be crowned king soon, just like his father had said mere minutes before the argument had begun. He deserved to make his own choices now. "What they all did was unforgivable, and they don't deserve-"

"The children are innocent! What did _they_ do? They deserve a shot at a normal life!" The people in the room grew silent. King Adam grunted wordlessly, and Queen Belle grimaced, smiling pitifully at Ben.

"We'll think about it," she said as she ushered out her husband.

Once he was alone, Ben found he couldn't breathe. They'll _think about it_? He knew too well what _that_ meant.

His father would end up calling a council meeting of the kingdoms, and _they'd _decide on whether or not to go through with it, and then it would depend on how well Ben represented his case. And he'd known too well from the last meetings he had watched that most of them didn't even care _what_ went down on the Isle as long as they stayed out of Auradon where they could do no no harm. Ben _knew_ the opposition he'd meet, he _knew_ if he wanted even a _chance_ at consideration, it would take a long time indeed.

His father might even rig it to go in his favor by "forgetting," as he always did, to send announcements for the meeting to the representatives of kingdoms and countries who he knew would vote _for _Ben's proclamation. And then claiming they were late or obviously didn't see the importance of such matter.

And the longer it took, the longer the kids of the Isle, the forgotten, the abandoned, would stay stuck there.

With that thought, Ben remembered his dream about the Isle, the girl with the purple hair and the enchanting green eyes. How the land about him had looked before he had fallen into the hole, it made him wonder how they all lived on a daily basis. After all, in the meetings, most of the kingdoms hadn't cared about the conditions of the Isle.

_Fine. _If that was indeed how his father would play it, Ben would make sure he could represent his case _well_. That way no one could ignore it anymore

But _how_?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I warned you that this would also hold elements of Dreamworks and Pixar and Disney, and well, since HTTYD is one of my favorites of Dreamworks, I included it here :).

Ben smoothed out an invisible wrinkle from his suit. He tried to remember how to breathe as he paced back and forth. Everything was a mess. No matter how many times Svanhild had told him he looked fine, he knew something was wrong, something _felt_ wrong. Nothing was perfect, and everything _had_ to be.

So that the Court would listen to him, would vote in his favor. To the royals, image was everything, and if he screwed up in the slightest, he'd _ruin_ everything. The kids of the Isle would stay there, he would never understand what his dream _meant_. He would never know what happened to Tiberius, his childhood friend who got taken away from the Isle for the sole reason that his father (who didn't even know he had a son, and the father Tibe didn't even know he had) had nearly killed an entire civilization for money.

This task wasn't going to be easy.

Over the years, having the poster parents of goodness, Ben had learned that he needed to be absolutely _perfect_. If he wasn't, he was scrutinized, criticized, and had newspapers and officials putting on more and more of the pressure since he was little that if he wasn't, he'd ruin the legacy his parents had built and worked so hard to create. And as he was always in the public eye with cameras always flashing in his face, eager to catch any mistake should he make it or use their little gossip columns to make his every action an item of interest, he had to learn and he had to learn fast.

So he carefully cultivated an image in Auradon, an image to make himself look good, _perfect_. But this meeting could bring all of that crashing down if it all went wrong. What he was petitioning—well, if his own parents' reactions were to go by—would not go over well. And he wasn't really looking forward to it because even as he practiced his speech over and over until it was _perfect_, mouthing each and every word to himself, (according to his mother, last night he'd been mumbling it word for word in his sleep) he was still uncertain, and he knew many of the _heroes_ didn't think that he, a fifteen-year-old on the edge of sixteen, could dictate politics.

But he could do this, he thought with shaking hands as he tried to breathe through a throat that felt as narrow as a straw.

"Ben!"

Abruptly, Ben stopped his pacing as Svanhild stood in his path and held his face in between her hands, forcing him to look at her. Auburn hair that blazed red gold in the sunlight was pulled back from her face in a braided ponytail and was kept out of her eyes by a pair of goggles perched atop her head. Her green eyes were trained on his. Her voice was soothing, the same she used when training and calming down wild dragons that could bite off her hand or burn off her face. "You need to calm down. Breathe."

Ben followed her advice, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Good," Svanhild said slowly. "And out." Ben exhaled. "And again. Just listen to my voice. Everything will be fine."

She helped him repeat the process, inhaling and exhaling until the world stopped spinning and breath came a little easier to Ben's lungs.

"Thanks," Ben said, leaning against the wall as he kept breathing in and out.

"Don't mention it." Svanhild sat down on the chair before her desk where various plans and designs for inventions were sprawled out. Ben had to restrain from reaching out and rearranging the mess so it was nice and proper and _perfect_. "Ben, relax, everything will be okay."

_Easy for you to say, you're not the one going in front of people to announce something you know they'll all hate and beg for their vote,_ Ben thought but didn't say.

Svanhild Haddock was a Viking foreign exchange student from the island of Berk, daughter of Chief Hiccup Haddock, leader of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, who thought it best for her to be sent to learn how to get along and learn the customs of Auradon. Her father would be at the meeting. Ben's hope was that he knew she took after him in terms of open-mindedness. After all, it was that same way of thinking that allowed him to end a centuries-old war and bring peace between other tribes of the Archipelago.

And although they weren't precisely _close_, Ben came to her for this because he was one of the only people he knew who wouldn't be automatically biased to the children of the Isle. From the beginning, she had been supportive of this decision, and they had been somewhat friends since the first time Ben had found himself in another episode of panic and breathlessness when she found him, and helped him through it. After that, he couldn't help trying to find her and spend time.

With all the cameras, the attentive stares, the false smiles and fake friendships to socially climb _(they thought he didn't notice, and Ben may be naive, but definitely not stupid. It takes one to know one, and Ben was good enough at giving the illusion of perfection to see straight through it),_ the ever present pressure to be _perfect_ around everyone, Svanhild was one of the few people Ben felt like he could actually _breathe_ around.

If she could tell he was stressed, she specifically asked if he wanted to talk about it, or be distracted from it, and if he chose the latter, not a beat would be missed before she started discussing her latest invention plan and how they would work, or the latest new addition to the Book of Dragons. She didn't talk about politics unless he brought it up, or asked how things were in the Archipelago, _(dragon poachers kept snatching dragons from the wild, and the looming threat of the warlords were just barely tamed with every raid preventing their army from growing but there were always more to worry about)_ but if he didn't want to think too much about it, she'd toss him a sword and asked if he wanted to fence. Whenever he did want to talk about what was stressing him out or the issues he had to deal with as Crown Prince that would only grow once he became King, she was blunt, realistic, never holding her tongue when it came to disagreeing and voicing her opinions or exploring all options _(Audrey listened, but she was forever stuck in her idealistic world, and almost everyone else didn't want to get on the bad side of the future King of Auradon by saying something he disagreed with)_.

He didn't need to be perfect. She understood either way. He liked her because essentially, she _left him alone_. Svanhild reminded him he was not the center of the universe and made him feel like he was just like everyone else, not a fifteen-year-old boy with the weight of his parents' legacy and, in a month, his entire country, on his shoulders.

"I will never understand how anyone can do this without wanting to tear their hair out," Ben said through gritted teeth, concentrating on the inhale and exhale of his lungs.

"Well, Benny-boo, where I come from, we deal with stress by kicking someone else's ass in the arena. Believe it or not, it's rather cathartic," she said.

A small, breathless laugh left his lips. "I should try that sometime."

"Here, or there? Because over there, you'd get your ass handed to you by my brothers."

Another laugh. "As long as they don't hold their punches."

A moment of silence passed before she spoke again. "You know, not everyone will be happy with your decisions. No matter how hard you try, there will always be someone who disagrees with you." She stood and walked over, placing a hand on her shoulder. "If you think this is the right thing to do, then hold your head up high, look them in the eye, and tell them what you want to do. Be proud, show them you won't back down, and they might just listen."

"I—I don't know—"

"Hey, I know for a fact you've got it in you!" Svanhild snapped, interrupting. "If my dad let that be his way of thinking, my people wouldn't have gotten as far as we have. You've got to try. You have to make them listen!" The authority in her tone made him look up as her voice bounced off the walls as she pointed out the window to where the Isle could be seen in the distance. "You want to get those kids off? Be straightforward, don't show any hesitation or weakness, because if they can tell you're second-guessing yourself, they will not hesitate to take. You. Down!"

Ben hesitated, concern flickering across his face. "You make it sound as if I'm going into battle," he said.

"Well, technically you are!" Svanhild exclaimed. "Just not of the physical kind! This is politics, and all rulers are vultures in such a world where they're looking for any weakness to use to take you apart!" He almost asked how she knew this until she remembered how back home, her father was also maintaining alliances between various islands and tribes. Though their cultures were different, she had been exposed to this type of thing longer than he had. "Just remember: We have the choice to be who we want to be; they don't!"

As Ben looked out the Isle, he pondered her words. _We have the choice to be who we want to be._

_Not all of us_, Ben thought. But maybe now he could actually use that _(the title he would never admit that he never wanted)_ to his advantage.

* * *

The Council Room was a sight to behold, that much could be said without question. All oak pillars stands, allotted seats for every ruler and house decorated with extravagant crests. Velvet curtains pushed to the side of huge french windows, and two carved thrones made of wood and blue silk. But the centerpiece of the room wasn't any of that.

There was a table in the middle of the rectangular room. Inside it was a glass casing embedded. Beneath that glass case was a yellowing, extremely detailed map of the Isle of the Lost, in all its glory. At all times, this map knew the location of everyone on the Isle of the Lost and could give requested information and video footage of them if asked.

The Royal families started filtering in, one by one, some bringing in their children and others just by themselves, or their hero, or their spouse.

Besides the royals were the most prominent _heroes_ who were chosen to represent their homes or their people.

On the second tier from the bottom sat the knights, the soldiers, the heroes that held neither noble nor royal blood such as the demigod, Hercules, the chiefs who had been chosen by others to represent their people, all those held in high respect for notable causes. However...they were not, well, princes or princesses, not of royal blood, not of what mattered most in Auradon.

Across from Ben in the second tier, Svanhild sat in her best attire, an emerald dress with fur trimmings and a fur cloak that held her father's crest, her clothing holding the essence of both her Viking heritage and Auradon's style. She sat by her mother and father's Council seats since if her parents were late, she would have to represent instead. Her auburn hair fell loose while also holding several braided patterns in what she claimed was her people's traditional style. Her eyes were steel but when she caught Ben's eyes, she gave an encouraging nod.

"Calling the council to order!" King Adam's voice echoed across the chamber, "To order now, to order!"

The hall quieted down. The last of the representatives slipped into their seats, and then there was silence. The King cleared his throat and began a well-rehearsed (yet not exactly a well-worded one) speech.

"We, as the United States of Auradon, have always strived to bring good, order and peace to the world. We right the wrongs the villains of our past did to us and our nation. And we don't do wrong by them…" He trailed off at the scoff from the second tier. "Please refrain all comments until the floor is open."

Chief Haddock stood up from his seat. The only Viking willing to make peace with their kingdoms and well known for uniting people and other chiefs of the Archipelago as well as stopping a centuries old war between his people and the beasts common in their parts known as dragons. Through his alliances, he had been chosen to represent, and that alone made him a powerful ally. "I'll wait, but with all due respect, a lot of what you just said sounds like a large pile of—"

His wife, Astrid, cleared her throat and quickly pulled him back down. "What he means to say is that he finds some objections to some of your previous rulings," she said through gritted teeth, "and I agree, but since we're not here to discuss that—" she leveled her eyes at Adam with a gaze hard enough to cut through steel— "continue."

The King cleared his throat and tried again. "We did not kill those who antagonised us, but only moved them, so that they may live out their days in peace—" This time, Astrid _and_ Svanhild had to react fast to both cover her father's mouth and restrain him from getting up. King Adam paused, every eye in the room following his every move, "It has come to my attention that there is a problem with the Isle of the Lost, and the court is gathered to debate a response."

Mutters ran through the room. The Isle of the Lost. They tried not to think about it, really. As if it might go away if they just ignored it.

"For this, my son would like to speak in order to suggest a new program for us to fund as his first proclamation."

Slowly, Ben stood up, pasting a perfect, blinding white smile on his face (_Years of practice made perfect_) as he faced those he had to convince. His breath caught in his throat as he began to speak and he had to take a moment to regain his composure. When he caught Svanhild's eye once again, searching for a familiar face in the crowd, she mouthed '_breathe_,' subtly miming the technique she'd been teaching him.

Ben inhaled deeply and then breathed out. Then he spoke, his voice ringing out. _Always speak loud and clear, enunciate, don't mumble, don't pause or hesitate unless intentional for effect, smile._ "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council," he began, just barely stopping his hands from shaking. But he managed to swallow down the bile that rose in his throat, and continued, making sure not to show how this was fazing him. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council," he repeated. "I wish to give the children of the Isle of the Lost a chance to live here. In Auradon." And he stopped because of the outburst that drowned him out. Screams rang through the courtroom. Shouts and accusations flew. Angry whispers were hissed out the corner of their mouths. Ben looked around, suddenly unable to get air into his lungs and feeling tears pinprick the corners of his eyes against his will, the room starting to spin _(Oh, God, he was ruining everything, oh, God, oh _God_)_.

Obviously, the idea was not approved of.

Taking a deep breath in and out, Ben tried to get a grip on himself. "Just wait!" he shouted to be heard. "I am not done yet! Just listen to what I have to say!" Slowly the noise died down. "All these years, the youth of the Isle have been innocent, and yet we've all abandoned them with their parents to be imprisoned with them. They hold little opportunity to be anything other than what they've been taught, and we've no idea what they've been through. Some of you have _lived_ with these villains, you know how they may treat their own children. All these years, we've treated past issues of the Isle with nothing but indifference and ignorance." Ben paused, gathering his words, as the heroes of the Council looked down at him. Then he raised his voice, forcing steel into it. "The last time we came together to discuss the Isle, it was because of the death of Leif Bludvist, a boy who became severely ill, and whose condition worsened for months due to our negligence. There was no hospital or medical specialists on the Isle that could be trusted that his brother or his father could take him to, yet when it was brought to our attention, instead of addressing the issue of health care of the Isle, you choose to ignore it."

People _had_ voted for better medical on the Isle, people _had_ thought about the welfare of its inhabitants, but not _enough_. Not enough to make an actual difference. Queen Rapunzel had even suggested a hospital, and some had agreed. But a majority didn't, saying it would do nothing but put a drain on their funds and the villains deserve nothing less but to rot.

Some of these people cared. Truly, they did. But not _enough_. And if Ben wanted this proclamation passed, he needed to convince them _all_.

"This can't go on. Not when we _know_ more may have died since due to our negligence and carelessness toward the abandoned children of the Isle. No child should have to suffer for the sins of their parents. Tiberius Rourke, a boy who lived in Auradon for _six years_ with his mother in _peace_, was sent to the Isle due to what his _father_ had done. Who are _we_ to decide what a person should be solely based on their genetics? We can't know unless we give them a chance! This Council has caused much pain to those that have not deserved it, but we now have the chance to right those wrongs. Please, _please_," he actually _begged_, "give the children of the Isle the chances and opportunities we hold that they were all denied. We have it in our power to stop this cycle of hatred and pain. _Please_."

With that, he sat down. He'd said all he could. He heard whispers of words like _responsibility_ and _heathens_ thrown around, but he just closed his eyes and crossed his fingers. He had to hope. It was all he could do. It was out of his hands now. He was placing fates of all the people in the hands of the _heroes_.

The present King's voice rang out, "All in favor of the program to release children of the Isle into Auradon?"

Only a few raised their hands.

"All against?"

Ben's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as he looked around at the response. _No, no, no, no, no…._

"Motion failed. This meeting is adjourned."

Ben sat there, shaking hands gripping the edges of the seat as the world spun. They'd said _no_. They were supposed to be the _heroes_, the good guys, but they said _no_. When his father tapped his shoulder, he jerked away, flinching away from his father's touch as if he'd been burned (he didn't even care at the look of hurt he got from the action). He sat where he was with his head lowered and his eyes trained on the polished marble of the floor as he tried to remember how to breathe until someone approached him. Some of the _heroes_ as they left, the ones that had voted _for_ the program, gave him sympathetic pats and words of encouragement, telling him he had his heart in the right place. And King Adam had warned him against these people, but they had voted for his program where no one else had. They stood by what they thought was right.

And that alone made them worth more in Ben's regard than all the other _heroes_.

"You had my vote." Ben looked up to see the Viking chieftain with Svanhild's arm looped around his. Hiccup shrugged, and smiled sadly, "You made some valid points. But I know from experience some folks just won't listen or see reason until they're shown otherwise, and even then, they won't see what they don't want to."

Ben stood and bowed to the Chief's embarrassment. "Thank you."

Svanhild leaned in close, and whispered into Ben's ear, "We can always try again. Don't give up until all options are explored." Then she rose, her posture not quite graceful but radiated the same strength and power her parents did, though they were not intimidating folk, and continued, louder, "You're always welcome in Berk if you ever want to visit. Anytime."

* * *

As if his failure weren't enough, outside was _hell_.

The moment Ben stepped outside the doors into the sunlight, a camera flashed into his face. And another and another, that by the time Ben could finally see again, he was being bombarded by cameras and reporters in his face, jabbing their recorders and microphones at him. Volleys of questions were sent one after the other, a flurry that Ben could just barely understand, his attention being drawn this way and that as he tried to keep up.

Just as he began to give one reporter an answer, another demanded his attention. "No comment," he finally said, all the faces, the bright lights and voices overloading his senses. He needed to get out.

He shoved his way through the crowd, people following, demanding what he was thinking, what the results of the meeting were, what his plans had been, his thoughts, how he felt about the verdict, just asking, asking, _asking_ every. Way. He. Looked. All while Ben repeated the same answer.

By the time he reached home, he could not be more grateful, racing to his room and locking the door behind him as he slammed it shut. He struggled to get breath to his lungs as he inhaled and exhaled, pacing back and forth around his room. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the TV, seeing his own face, the news already replaying the last few minutes, his proclamation, his _failure_. He clicked it off, an, in a moment of frustration, anger and panic building up, hurled the remote at the screen. It lodged in the center, spiderweb cracks breaking off from it, but Ben couldn't find it in him to care as he resumed his pacing.

_Don't give up until you've explored all the options._

Well, how was he supposed to do _that_?

_Some folks just won't listen or see reason until they're shown otherwise..._

His eyes caught on the jacket Svanhild had made him when she heard of him riding a motorcycle. It was deep blue and made of dragon scales (_"Relax, Benny-boo, none were hurt in the making of this project, they just shed more than your father."_). After her initial fright that he would partake in such a dangerous activity, (_"You ride on dragons, yet a motorcycle is dangerous?" "Dragons catch you if you fall, this death machine doesn't! It's completely unpredictable!")_ she decided if he wouldn't listen to her, she would at least make him something to keep him safe while riding. Despite how much he believed she was overreacting, (he knew she wasn't. He knew he had responsibilities, and it would be reckless to do something that risked his safety when he knew his own importance, but when out riding on days where he just felt _trapped_, it helped him breathe) after he learned of the scales' properties, he appreciated the gift, even if he didn't think he would use it.

He didn't wear it since he didn't think his parents would like it very much, after all, they didn't even know he had a motorcycle in the first place, and if they found out, it may as well be a declaration of World War III in the castle, _(image was everything in front of the cameras)_ but the thought was enough.

Yet as his erratic thoughts raced, he grabbed it off the coat hanger and slipped it on. He'd waited, he'd been patient, he had trusted the system, and it had _failed him._

Well, he was done waiting, he thought, grabbing the bag from his closet and his helmet. If they wouldn't listen, he would _make them._


	3. Chapter 3

Ben had to wait until it was dark. He didn't want to do this without at least telling one of his friends. But he wasn't sure if they'd understand, and some he knew would, but had commitments so he didn't want to get them involved. Doug had a family gathering, Lonnie had a school project to take care of, Jane was making preparations for the coronation, Chad was focused on the next tourney game. Svanhild had never been shy about about her thoughts or about fighting for the rights of others, and he knew she would join him in a heartbeat, but… She was the first person his parents would go to, and even blame if they knew she had a hand in it. Besides, even without context, he had a feeling she'd get a general idea of where he'd gone and cover for him if they were to ask which should buy him some time (out of all his friends, she was the best liar. Her stories were outlandish but considering the world they lived in, just plausible enough to be believable, and she weaved her words well enough that you could barely ever tell what the hell she actually meant; Ben still had no idea if her excuse for missing school last week was true or not).

And Audrey... Audrey, his girlfriend, was, as always, trapped in her idealistic happily-ever-world where everything was either good or bad. Besides, she had plans for the spa and to get fitted for her dress for the coronation. 

Either way, once his parents found out where he'd gone, he didn't need them badgering his friends. He did leave a note, however, that might be found if they looked in the right place. 

When he left the castle, he only had half a plan. And for it, he needed someone with magic who wasn't afraid to use it despite it now being frowned upon in Auradon (this was the reason the kingdom of Arendelle was not trusted although they were a close ally, since instead of allowing Fairy Godmother to take away their powers, Queen Elsa and her husband, as well as her stepdaughter and son, decided to keep them). To be honest, it was truly a fascinating thing to Ben, but knowing his family's history with magic and enchantress', he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Which is how he ended up face to face with Hela Lokidottir. One of the few children who escaped Auradon's persecution of their parents and imprisonment upon the Isle. Not out of the goodness of their hearts, of course, but by her mother hiding and sending her away once she found the god had been captured. Since then, she'd kept the secret of her father pretty well. She, like him, had cultivated herself to be the picture of  _ perfection  _ to keep all suspicion off her, made every effort to make herself seem the poster child all parents wanted; she never lied, although she kept promises close to her chest as promises made to a god were binding, whether they meant it or not; she never wore green, never got into any mischief like the twins of Queen Rapunzel and King Eugene, never showed any inclination toward magic, even claimed she wanted to join the soldiers of Auradon when she grew older. 

She never gave so much as a  _ hint  _ that she was the demigod daughter of the god of lies and mischief himself, except the one time Ben caught her performing magic that so obviously could only belong to a child of Loki. Even the faeries and sorcerers needed training to perform magic so well, while for children of the gods, it came natural as breathing.

Despite swearing she didn't owe him any favors for not telling anyone, Ben could tell she was still afraid he would, which was why if she overheard him mentioning about needing something to his friends, he found it the very next day. And every time, he would give it back or confront her about it, insisting he didn't want payment in exchange for his silence (he was almost offended that she thought so low of him until he saw the contempt many of the adults—many of his friends—had for the villains and children of the Isle). Only to have her do it again days later. Maybe it was because that just as promises to gods were binding, promises of gods to humans were just as strong. On any other day, he would deny it because it wasn't very  _ princely _ or  _ Auradon _ of him, but he had been counting on her overhearing this time to use it to his advantage.

_ She _ , however, had not counted on him finding her first instead of the other way around. Ben had found her in the school kitchen, playing the trombone while her brother, Fenris opened and slammed the oven door repeatedly. He thought about interrupting, but instead just held up his camera and filmed them until they finally noticed him.

As the two - three, if they counted Fenris - walked out of the school into the forest where he hid his motorcycle, he tried to make conversation. She mainly ignored him until they were far enough from the school that she could count on no one catching her, and she waved a hand, returning her brother back to his natural form. Ben jumped. Even though he had read up on mythology since finding her out (the things her father had done were truly  _ crazy _ , but a majority weren’t _ evil _ ) and knew her brother was actually a wolf and not the dark-skinned human she had turned him into to keep people in the dark, it still shocked him to see it actually  _ happen _ . 

“Ben, I swear, you’re so trusting, someone could be holding a bloody knife in one hand and a human head in the other, and you’d still try to say ‘Hi,’ and make conversation with them,” Hela finally sighed, the first words she said all night to him. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I need your help,” Ben said. At seeing her expression, he hurried. “Listen, normally, I wouldn’t ask you this, but this is important to me. This morning—”

“Yeah, I heard. The proclamation,” she cut him off. His cheeks flushed, if she knew, how many others had already heard, too? Most meetings were kept quiet, but since this would undoubtedly affect all of Auradon, it was suddenly required knowledge. “I’m sorry, I really am; if my brother hadn’t saved me—” she stroked Fenris’ pitch black fur— “I would be with them.”

"You have magic," Ben said, more a statement than a question. 

"Yeah, what about it?" Suspicion crept into her tone.

"I need your help to get to the Isle."

Fenris yelped as Hela gripped a bit too harshly on his fur at his sudden words. "What?! Are you—” she began shouting, just barely remembering herself before quickly lowering her voice to a hiss. “Are you crazy?! If they found you there, they will  _ kill _ you, or use you for ransom or something! Either way, it definitely won’t be good!”

“If I want them to understand, I need to show them,” Ben said. “If I can just show them what it’s like over there, they’ll see why it’s wrong to keep them there, why they deserve a chance, maybe they’ll listen! The villains did terrible things, I know that, but their children are all innocent, and nobody cares about them!”

Hela stared at him with wide eyes a vibrant green that almost glowed in the darkness. Then she tilted her head, squinting. “You’re...really invested in this, aren’t you?” she asked.

“People like you don’t deserve to be afraid of facing prejudice for who their parents are. I’ve been researching the children and teenagers on the Isle, but this way I can decide who needs it most, who would be better suited to begin with so they’ll bring more over after the first try.”

Leaning against her brother, Hela was silent for what felt like an eternity before finally saying, “Okay,” she shrugged, but Ben knew there was more, “on one condition. I have to go with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

“Do I need to give you a list on why this is not negotiable? Number one,  _ you _ . Just  _ you _ . No offense, but I bet you would not last five minutes without being found out with this...goody-two-shoes act of yours.” A smirk played on her lips that suddenly made it much easier to see her a child of the trickster god. “The thing is, ” she sighed, tapping him on the nose. “You being, well,  _ you _ is enough of a reason not to let you go alone. If you want to blend in, you gotta do what I do, what shapeshifters are natural at doing.”

Ben furrowed his brows. “Which is…”

“Play a role.” Giving a slight yank on his jacket, she said, “This works a bit in terms of costume. And while I do enjoy playing dress-up during Drama Club, I prefer a more realistic one as you've seen before. One of the things I learned here is that everyone plays a character in front of others, even without meaning to. Everyone wears masks that few see behind, and the thing I love about acting is that you have to analyze a character to play it, their quirks, their habits, observe to realize their fears and dreams, figure out what makes them  _ them— _ ” Circling Ben, she spun, and when she was facing him again, her form had shifted, became taller, shoulders broader, voice deepened, and Ben saw his own face on hers to the exact detail, the only difference being the eyes a bright green instead of his own blue-grey— “so just think of the world as your stage with the consequences a little higher than you’d like if you step out of that character.”

To say hearing his own voice speaking back to him was unnerving would be the understatement of the year. But still, Hela continued, wearing his form as a “costume,” as she put it, while she circled him. “You, I’m still trying to figure out the  _ exact _ details of your character, especially since I can tell your mask is one you put a lot of work and effort into, but I have observed you enough to know that you try so  _ hard _ to be the perfect, little fairytale prince everyone expects you to be, but your heart’s never truly been in it, has it?” she drawled in  _ his voice _ , tilting her head just so. "Not when what you consider  _ right _ is regarded as wrong by almost everyone else, not whenever you confront anyone about it, you're ignored or told that you'll ruin your parents' legacy by continuing your way of thinking. Not when you feel no one believes in you." Then she shifted into another face. Audrey's. "Not when you're never sure who's really your friend and who's just  _ using _ you. Of who's lying or keeping secrets when you lie to  _ yourself _ that she probably isn't just with you for the crown and status, because then you would wake yourself from a comforting illusion to a painful truth.”

Ben stumbled back as he tried not to show how hard her words hit. “I—I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

“You don’t, do you?” she mused, shifting back into her own form. “I mean, getting to know your character helps me to understand  _ you _ , and I’m just wondering if this is about doing the right thing, or  _ proving _ that you’re right.” 

Shaking his head, Ben took a moment to compose himself. All her words were just an attempt to get under his skin and see if he was weak. None of what she said was actually true.  _ They're looking for any weakness to use to take you apart! _ "I want to do this because I  _ have _ to," he said firmly."And if you won't help, I suppose I'll just find another way."

A long moment passed in which Hela spent just…standing in place before him, looking him up and down. "You know a Child of Mischief knows when you lie…" she said slowly. "When it comes to the legacy of our parents, the best way to succeed is to not just accept it from them, but _take it_, make it _yours_. That way, they no longer hold the power over you that holds you back from reaching your potential."

"I suppose that's what I'm doing now, aren't I?"

After what felt like an eternity as she observed him, she nodded and extended her hand, and Ben wondered if he'd passed a test of some sort. He reached forward to take her hand only for her to grasp his forearm in her strong grip instead. He started, then remembered seeing this type of handshake before and copied the gesture. "This does not mean we're friends," she stated abruptly, her eyes narrowed as her touch held on much longer than necessary, refusing to let him back away. "I never can forgive you for what your father started."

"Allies, then?" He attempted a smile, and she rolled her eyes but released him. 

"Just don't push your luck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually ended up making a video on Youtube about some of the OCs you might see here. Anyway, I intended to make this longer but I felt bad about not updating so sooner so I ended it a bit early and I suppose we'll see what happens next chapter! :)


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay, you ready?" Hela asked, slowly unwrapping her arms from around Ben's waist. She insisted she wasn't scared when he started up the motorcycle, but he sensed that if he weren't wearing his jacket, her nails would have left indents on his skin through his shirt from where she had clung on for dear life.

When she ordered him to keep going until they reached the edge where the bridge between the Isle and Auradon once was before his father had it destroyed and made it so none would get in or out. 

Unless you had a knack for magic.

Shaking out her hands, Hela took a deep breath. "Okay, I've done this once before, I can do it again," she mumbled. 

"You did?"

She looked back as if just remembering Ben was there. "I tried once. That’s all you need to know.” Then she put her hands together and began to mumble words too fast and low for Ben to understand. Slowly, a faint golden glow emitted from her hands, and as she continued chanting, it expanded and circled around them until she stopped and stepped back.

It didn’t look so much a portal as it did that she had cut into the air and fabric of reality. In a crooked line, it emitted golden light and was wide enough, he supposed. 

“You know I can teach you some if you’d like.”

“Huh?” Ben looked away at her voice. From the look she sent him, she had caught the way he stared completely awestruck at it. Magic wasn’t exactly... _ illegal _ , per se...but it wasn’t exactly encouraged either.

“If you’re interested I can always teach you some. It likely won’t be strong magic for you, but it would work, and hey, rulers need all the leverage they can get,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t have magic.”

“Yeah, you do,” she scoffed, poking him on the nose. “Residual magic from your father’s curse.” At Ben’s face, she sighed. “When people have been under a curse for a prolonged amount of time, some small traces remain even after the curse is broken. And your father was under that curse for a _ very _ long time before your mother came along; after all, none of them aged. Why do you think your father still gets a bit  _ beast _ -like when he’s angry? Or why you still have some of those qualities even when he doesn’t?”

“I don’t—” Ben began, only to be leveled another look.

“Oh,  _ please _ .” Hela rested her arms on the handlebars of his motorcycle. “When you get mad, or at least mad enough to  _ show  _ it, you growl or roar, and I swear I heard you  _ howl _ when your tourney team won last game. And you may trim, but I’ve seen your nails.” She raised one of Ben’s hands resting on the handles, and when she began to raise it her eyes, he yanked it away. “Or should I say… claws? And let's talk about how your canines are just a little  _ too  _ sharp—”

“Is this all just a game to you?” Ben finally snapped, shooting up. They stood staring at each other until Ben realized she was just trying to get a rise out of him and quickly sat back down.

“And then there’s the temper,” she mused, a smirk playing on her lips, all smug and knowing. “Face it, Benny-boo, you are just one more thing impacted by your father being an ass.” As he struggled to find the words to respond to her, she broke away and whistled, watching Fenris bound to her. “I’ll be back soon,” she whispered, “and I’ll bring him back, too, so we can be a family again.” 

Ben pretended he didn’t hear. Despite how she helped him now, part of him knew he couldn’t afford to just blindly trust her. Perhaps it was simply the bias drilled into his head, but there was also how she seemed to enjoy getting into his head, getting a rise out of him, how she smirked at him with green eyes— her father's eyes— that pierced and ran him through, seeing too much, slicing his soul open and forcing him to look at what he tried not to. Not to mention as much as how he’d hate to admit it, (because that was his father’s way of thinking, not his) part of it was also from how much she seemed like her father. 

And while her father was hardly on anyone’s side that wasn’t his own, he was unpredictable, always changing, you could almost never tell his true motives or plan until it was too late, his charmed tongue able to weave words to be whatever he wanted people to hear. One couldn’t even tell if he had foreseen and crafted his plan from the very beginning or if he manipulated from the sidelines and made it up as he went. And though there had been children of Loki in the past who had even helped the kingdoms, they did so in a way not particularly agreed with, because all were like their father in one way or another.

Though Ben would never agree with the creation of the Isle, he could see the reason in fearing the Trickster god and his children.

At least the other villains were upfront with their abuse. At least with them, you could tell which side they were on.

Children of Loki hid their tricks. They manipulated from the side; the effects of their control wouldn't be present nor recognized until years later. They convinced others that they only destroyed what they had to, but when they did fight, they did so mercilessly and devastatingly. They bribed and hid the truth and caught people in their web of deceptions. 

But they cared for their kin and allies deeply, and brought Hell upon those that dared harm them.

_ All _ children of the gods were dangerous and were to be regarded with caution. Children of gods were unpredictable allies, but better a wary alliance than an even more dangerous enemy who could use their tongue of silk and charms to make you turn your back for them to sink their knives into.

So, Ben kept his mouth shut. After all, like she said, they were not friends.

Giving her wolf of a brother a last kiss on the forehead, she rose, but then paused. "Hmm, I think I know how to buy us at least a head start," she mused, and though Ben could see Fenris' eyes widen as if he already knew what was on her mind. Hela's hand extended,  _ gold _ , not green like Ben had suspected, magic swirling around her fingers.

And then Ben was looking at a carbon copy of himself. Just as it was when she wore his form, the only flaw was his eyes, the same bright green as her own. He grumbled something under his breath.

“Oh, please, you know how badly you’ve been wanting to try out Improv,” Hela shushed her brother, brushing away his concerns before turning to Ben. “How long do you think before someone would notice?” she asked in a casual tone, as if all this was normal.

Shaking his head quickly to clear it, Ben said, “Uh, well, if--if it’s my dad, we should have a few days, but if it’s my mom... we should probably leave now.”

“Good plan.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hey, here's my AU fanfic. Besides Disney, this will hold elements of Dreamworks and Pixa, so please read on and I hope you enjoy!


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